User blog comment:Bartholomew Bilberry Bowstring/The First of Many/@comment-26538658-20160425120739/@comment-26024035-20160426020802

A ways away from the planning of woodlander chiefs and their trustiest soldiers, the few vermin of the Army of the Moss gathered about their own fire. A ferret named Skirvil shook his head in disgust and spat into the flames, casting an eye over the rest of his fellows. "Heh, sometimes I wunner why we e'er signed up fer fis paffetic army. I see fe way fey lookit us... 'speshily at yew, Jarl. Aye... I don't much fink fey fancy havin' a big beast wiffa pretty battleaxe in feir midst..."